


He's Eating Them

by SaraHerbertWatson



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Cannibalism, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, Eating Disorders, Gen, Hannibal is a Cannibal, Will Figures It Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-25
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-09 01:37:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3231371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraHerbertWatson/pseuds/SaraHerbertWatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once Will Graham realizes he's been fed human meat by Dr. Hannibal Lecter, his relationship with food - and everything that has to do with food - becomes strained.</p><p>This is a series of out-of-order drabbles and one shots I'll write when it comes to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Realization

**Author's Note:**

> I tried replacing the ? in the "out of x chapters" part with Infinity but it didn't let me, so just pretend it's there. Infinity chapters, all out of order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place right after Will has the flashback to Hannibal shoving the tube down his throat in Kaiseki.

_Cannibalism_.

It whispered in Will Graham’s ear like a stolen secret; like a dirty word traveling through an elementary-school playground.

How could he have been so blind?

But that’s the thing about cannibalism, isn’t it? It never crosses your mind – you _always_ know that what you’re eating is a bird or a cow or a pig...until you don’t.

And that’s just it: Will didn’t know – he really, _truly_ didn’t – know it was...what it was.

Will flung his tray off of his lap, and ran to the sink, desperate to get the meat out of his mouth – out of his stomach – out of his body – out of his brain.

He retched into the sink, and it all came up, just like the ear – Abigail Hobbs’ ear – the ear Hannibal Lecter _force-fed him_ – did the morning he was taken into custody. The morning the odds were stacked against him: Will Graham had killed Abigail Hobbs, Cassie Boyle, Marissa Schurr, Donald Sutcliffe, and Georgia Madchen.

But he didn’t – Hannibal forced a tube down his throat and planted the evidence inside of Will’s body – he remembered as he vomited again into the sink. He had forced-fed him, and not just with that tube and not just food or flesh – he was lying to everyone. Hannibal had planted the DNA of Cassie, Marissa, Donald, and Georgia into Will’s lures, framing Will from the beginning.

From the beginning.

_“I am very careful about what I put into my body, which means I end up preparing most meals myself.”_

Of course he does – _of course he does_. Because Hannibal wouldn’t want to eat the wrong meat. But Will had.

There are some things people trust another with immediately, like one’s name, small favors, or their favorite color. There was one thing that Will had taken for granted for years – trusted anyone with, because he never thought of the possibility: food. Everyone does it – they go to restaurants, people’s houses, have potlucks – everyone eats things that another has prepared. It was so easy – Hannibal Lecter offered Will breakfast – eggs and sausage – and Will accepted it without a second thought. And it was _good._

Will sank to his knees in front of the sink, his hands pressing themselves into his face. How many meals had he shared with Hannibal Lecter? How many had Jack Crawford? How many had Alana Bloom? How many meals had Hannibal prepared; how many people had he tricked? How many people had he killed?

Too many. And, as far as Will could tell, he was never going to stop.


	2. Randall Tier

_“This is my becoming...and it’s yours.”_

“This is my design.” Will replied. Randall Tier was nothing more than part of the design. He had forced Will to kill him, – well, really, Hannibal forced Will’s hand when he had sent Randall to kill him. Now, Will was playing the part Hannibal would have wanted him to play. He had to call Jack early that morning, just after he checked Randall’s pulse and found that he – indeed – was dead.

He had obvious called Jack out of bed – he was cranky and groggy all at once.

“Will?”

“I did something bad,” Will began. “But you have to believe me I had to. And I have to do worse things in order to get Hannibal where I want him.”

“What did you do?” he asked, and Will felt his heart in his throat.

“I killed Randall Tier.”

“You what?” Jack hissed into the phone’s receiver, and Will quickened his pace back and forth across his living room – a trail that his dogs, too frightened by what had happened to sleep, followed.

“I killed Randall Tier – I had to – Hannibal sent him to kill me –”

“So you killed him in self-defense.”

“Yes – it was all self-defense, but what I’m about to do is not,” Will said quickly.

“And what are you about to do?” Jack had asked.

“I’m going to take the body to Hannibal. And we’re going to...display it.” He covered his face with his free hand, feeling sickened by the words, the need to vomit pushing itself up his esophagus – “Like he’s done to the others,” he pressed on.

“And you think this is the way to get Hannibal Lecter where we want him?” Jack asked.

“He has to trust me – he has to think he’s molding me – I have to let him think he’s creating something from the slab of clay that is me – reshaping me in his image –”

“Are you sure he’s not doing that already?” Jack asked, and Will stopped in his tracks.

“What?”

“I’m worried for you, Will. You’ve gone into the mind of a killer too far before; I don’t want history to repeat itself.”

He thought back to killing the person that laid before him – he had envisioned killing Hannibal, he had _liked_ the feeling of stopping his heart – but it wasn’t Hannibal he had killed –

“I know who I am, Jack,” Will promised, his eyes one again finding the body of Randall Tier. “You just have to trust me with this.”

And so, after throwing up the dinner that Will had previously been proud to say he had kept down, he loaded Tier’s body into the back of his car, and drove to Hannibal’s house.

Five hours later, in the darkest hours of the morning, Will Graham sent Jack Crawford one text: _You should probably go to the Museum of Natural History. There’s a new exhibit. - WG_

He did not sleep, expecting the FBI to call him as soon as the sun had risen.

But what he did not expect was the fact that he enjoyed killing Randall Tier. Every word Will said to Hannibal Lecter, everything that he did with him was planned to a tee – except for that small, crucial bit.

He was imagining Hannibal, that’s why he enjoyed it – or so he kept telling himself. He wasn’t like Hannibal Lecter – or so he kept telling himself. But the center portion of their venn-diagram was expanding with the similarities Will could draw between them:

  1.        They both killed someone by accident.
  2.        They both killed someone on purpose.
  3.        They both put a body of someone they killed on display.
  4.        They both _ate a human being_.



Will’s stomach churned at the thought, and Randall Tier picked up on it.

 _“You haven’t eaten in two days,”_ he informed him.

“Going for three.”

**Author's Note:**

> (if there's any spelling mistakes or awkward wording please let me know; I'll fix it asap)


End file.
